I Am Not My Last Name
by N.T Rayne
Summary: Having a famous parent sucks people everyone assumes things about you. Expectations. Labels. The feeling of being judged by your last name is the worst. A bunch of drabbles about how children do not grow up to become just like their parents.


**I'm Not My Last Name**

**By:** xLucky-Sparks

**Disclaimer: **Whatever belongs to JK Rowling belongs to JK Rowling. Whatever belongs to me belongs to me.

**Author's Note: **Heyos! So, you've stumbled onto my newest fanfic **I'm Not My Last Name**. Now, this is my attempt at writing some drabbles about the "What if's" in life for the Next Generation kids. I mean, they are the children of some of the greatest witches and wizards of all time, so... yea... lotsa you know... burdens on their little shoulders. Anyways, I'm hoping this collection won't just end with the children we all know. You know, the obvious names: Scorpius, Albus, Rose, James. But they will start with them and slowly move on to everyone else. Yes, you will be seeing some of my created characters in there since I do want to address some of the children of people who were not mentioned to have kids, like Oliver Wood and Cho Chang and Pansy. Anyways, so without further ado, the first chapter of **I'm Not My Last Name**

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**Rose Weasley**

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Despite what everyone says, I'm not my last name.

I know that I have my father's height. My cousin, James, would often times make fun of me for being awkwardly tall for girls my age. I'm sixteen years old and am taller than most boys at Hogwarts. I know that I also have my father's fear of spiders and his fiery temperament. Thank Merlin that I don't have his brains though.

I can thank my mum for that.

But even though I've inherited my mum's brains, people say that I am just like my mother and am the brightest witch in school, and I've inherited my mum's large teeth and eyes, I'm not like her either. Even though I am just as independent and just as headstrong, I will never be as brave, courageous or eccentric as she is.

My father told me about S.P.E.W and I nearly died laughing.

People say that I'm just like my parents when I meet them, and when they find out that they are my parents. They expect me to be book smart like my mother and brave like my father. They expect me to join the Ministry and do great things, possibly be an auror and catch dark wizards like dad does or something along those lines. They expect me to be a prefect and to be Head Girl once I enter my seventh year. They expect me to be just like my parents.

I would smile, nod and tell them that I am prefect and that I am considering a job in the Ministry.

They would smile back before asking the question, almost jokingly.

"So you're in Gryffindor just like your parents right? I mean, your father is Ronald Weasley, and almost every Weasley I've met are Gryffindors!"

"Actually no," I would tell them, giving them my brightest smile, "I'm a Slytherin."

That's when the conversation would come to a grinding halt. People would stare at me as if they were waiting for me to deliver the punchline to a well laid joke. When they realized that I was serious, they would cough and suddenly remember an appoint they had to be at or would attempt to pick up the conversation again by changing the subject to the weather or how the Chudley Canons were doing.

I would then tell them that I hated the Chudley Canons and preferred watching American Quidditch channels.

That's when the conversation would drift off completely.

Then I'd smile as they told me good bye and walk off in a daze, wondering how the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley could be sorted into Slytherin and not share her father's Quidditch team. I would then be lost to my own thoughts while resuming my task, remembering my parent's reaction when I told them the news that I was sorted into Slytherin.

I would remember what it was like to be eleven and to be sorted.

I was scared back then and horridly ashamed of the house I was sorted into. I cried myself to sleep in my dorm room, terrified of sending a letter to my parents. I begged Albus to do it for me, to write the letter and to send it off with my owl because I was too busy crying to see through my tears.

My father sent me a howler a week later.

I had never been more embarrassed in my life as my father's voice raised hell in the Great Hall, as he threatened to rip the sorting hat into pieces for sorting me into Slytherin. So mortified, that I was crying again even though the howler didn't yell at me for being sorted into Slytherin, just the hat for putting me in that house. Albus comforted me. The next day, my mother sent me a letter telling me that she was having my dad sleep on the porch for the rest of the week for sending the howler.

She told me that she was proud of me, regardless of what house I was in.

But I knew that she was rather disappointed that I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, where she was certain I would be sorted into. She even told me herself that she excepted to see me wearing my blue Ravenclaw robes the next year, although Gryffindor robes would be ok too.

Still, she made dad sleep out on the porch, so that meant she wasn't as disappointed as dad was.

At least that made me feel better.

It wasn't until I made friends in Slytherin and fell in love with the son of my father's sworn enemies did I realize that I was happy in the house I was sorted into. I realized that not all Slytherins were as my father paints them to be. Slytherins were only unfortunate enough to bear the bad name.

The reality was that Slytherins were smart, possibly even smarter than Ravenclaw, and that they were ambitious and that I was smart and ambitious.

So I'll tell you now that my name is Rose Weasley.

I have my father's height and my father's temperament. I have my mother's brains and her large teeth. I have my family's last name: Weasley.

But I don't have my father's love for the Chudley Canons. I don't have his bias for the Gryffindor house. I don't want to be an auror like he is, nor do I want to work in the Ministry like my mother. Even though I am prefect, I have no expectations of being Head Girl. I am, however, hoping to be Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and I want to travel the world before joining a professional Quidditch team in America. I am in love with a Malfoy, the son of my father's sworn enemy. I am a proud Slytherin, not Gryffindor, and it doesn't matter what people say about my house because all that matters is my opinion. My family is famous, but I am just another girl.

My last name is Weasley, but I am not my last name.

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**Next Chapter: Scorpius Malfoy**

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**Author's Note:** So? What do you think? ^^; This is my first real attempt at drabble that is written in the first person because I'm trying to get into the head of the characters. Yes, I chose Rose because inspiration came to me while I was writing a chapter for my other fanfic **Change of Heart** while I was deciding where the characters are to be sorted. It's a short fic documenting the life of Scorpius Malfoy and how he starts off innocent and then turns angry and spiteful at the hatred and animosity at Hogwarts. And if you want to read a story with action and a corrupt bunch of Witch Hunters ready to take down Hogwarts, then please read my fanfic **Witch Hunt** which is about two Witch Hunters from America coming to Hogwarts to destroy the wizarding world.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy the first chapter of **I Am Not My Last Name**! Please review, and if you have the time please enjoy my other fanfics as well.

Ciao! ^^


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